Chapter 1 - CHECK MY MEDICATION
Nora Bennett had survived a roadside explosion in Helmand Province.
She had survived three surgeries.
Two years of rehabilitation.
A medical board that told her she would probably always limp.
Nightmares.
Pain.
The humiliation of needing help to climb stairs after once carrying a wounded Marine twice her size through incoming fire.
But nothing in Afghanistan had prepared her for the way her mother looked at her on the marble floor of the family mansion.
Not with fear.
Not with concern.
With irritation.
Nora lay on one side near the formal dining room, one hand clamped over the old surgical scar above her left knee.
Blood had begun soaking through her blue jeans where the scar tissue had split.
Her breathing came fast and shallow.
The room blurred at the edges.
Her mother, Evelyn Bennett, stood over her in a cream designer dress.
Sixty-one.
Perfect hair.
Perfect posture.
Perfect disgust.
“Get up.”
Nora tried.
Her injured leg buckled immediately.
She hit the floor harder.
Pain shot from her knee into her hip.
“Mom…”
Evelyn’s mouth tightened.
“Quit performing.”
“I’m not—”
Evelyn kicked the injured leg aside.
Nora screamed.
The sound ripped through the dining room.
Several guests froze.
Madison, Nora’s younger sister, stood near the bar holding champagne.
She laughed.
Not loudly.
Enough.
“Always desperate for attention.”
Nora stared at her.
Thirty-one.
Spoiled.
Beautiful.
Never told no for long.
For three months Nora had been living in her parents’ house because a complication from reconstructive surgery left her unable to return to her own apartment safely.
She hated every day of it.
Evelyn hated it more.
Her mother pointed toward the smear of blood on the marble.
“LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY FLOOR!”
Nora’s disbelief almost overpowered the pain.
“My leg is bleeding.”
“And whose fault is that?”
“I fell because you shoved the tray into me.”
Evelyn’s eyes flashed.
“Don’t lie in front of guests.”
Nora tried to pull in more air.
Couldn’t.
Her chest tightened.
The room tilted.
“I… can’t breathe…”
One of the guests, an older man from Frank Bennett’s investment firm, reached for his phone.
Evelyn snapped toward him.
“NOBODY CALLS 911!”
The man stopped.
“What?”
“She has anxiety attacks,” Evelyn said. “If you encourage this, she gets worse.”
Nora tried to speak.
Nothing came out except a wheeze.
Her eyes found her father.
Frank Bennett sat near the windows in a leather armchair.
Sixty-seven.
Thin.
Gray.
A clear oxygen tube beneath his nose.
He had declined rapidly over the past year after what Evelyn described as “heart and lung complications.”
He looked terrified.
Not for himself.
For Nora.
He gripped the armrests and tried to rise.
Evelyn turned.
One look.
Frank stopped.
That hurt Nora almost as much as the kick.
Her father had once been loud.
Confident.
The man who taught her to drive.
The man who stood at her Marine Corps commissioning and cried openly.
Now he looked at his wife before making any movement.
Madison sighed.
“Can we please get her upstairs before dinner is ruined?”
Nora closed her eyes.
Then the front door slammed open.
Heavy footsteps crossed the foyer.
A man appeared in the dining-room entrance.
Lieutenant Colonel Grant Mercer.
Forty.
Marine Corps legal officer.
Dark service jacket under a raincoat.
He had come to deliver documents Nora had asked him to review concerning her medical retirement and a family power-of-attorney question.
He took one look at her on the floor.
Then at the blood.
Then at Evelyn standing over her.
His expression changed.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!”
The entire room froze.
Evelyn turned.
“This is a private family matter.”
Grant ignored her.
He crossed the room and dropped beside Nora.
“Nora. Look at me.”
She tried.
“Can you breathe?”
“Not… right.”
He looked at the guests.
“Call an ambulance. Now.”
The older man immediately pulled out his phone again.
Evelyn stormed forward.
“THIS IS MY HOUSE!”
Grant slowly looked up at her.
His face was frighteningly calm.
“And she is bleeding on the floor.”
Evelyn hesitated.
Not because she cared.
Because his uniform mattered to her.
Rank mattered.
Witnesses mattered.
Appearances mattered.
Grant turned back to Nora.
Then someone grabbed his sleeve.
Weak fingers.
Trembling.
Grant looked over.
Frank had somehow made it out of the chair.
He was half-standing, one hand clutching his oxygen tubing, the other locked around Grant’s jacket.
“Sir?”
Frank’s lips shook.
His voice barely came through.
“Check…”
Evelyn’s face changed.
Frank swallowed.
May you like
“Check… my medication.”
Evelyn went white.
